Page 12 of Frat Around and Find Out (Peach State Fratbros #1)

Ty

“Y ou not gonna answer me?” Ryan asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

He stands beside me in the gym locker room, assessing himself in the mirror.

“Huh?” I’m more than a little distracted. It’s been hard to think about much else since Lance came over and we fucked around the other day.

Whatever doubt I may have had about what’s happening between us has evaporated.

What we did in my bedroom was explosive.

And not just because of the way he worked my cock, but even getting him off, feeling the subtleties in his movements, the way his expression locked up as he came…

it’s something I haven’t been able to get off my mind.

And now I’m supposed to get back to my life and act like everything’s normal? Fuck that.

“My chest looks bigger, right?” Ryan puffs it out, his towel at his side, since—as usual—he’s not bothering to cover up.

It’s interesting that, even though I’m discovering this side of myself, I’m not even remotely attracted to my friend.

Not a thought I would’ve ever had before, but since my experiment with Lance, how can I not?

Sure, I’ve known guys like Ryan are attractive.

I’ve been around plenty of hot guys, but none of them got me worked up like my Alpha Theta Mu nemesis.

Although, maybe it’s just because I never woke up tied to any of them, marking them with my cum.

Or because none of them have ever looked at me with those intense brown eyes.

“Your chest and your arms are a lot more swole right now,” I assure Ryan, who winces.

“That was like pulling teeth.”

“I’m sorry, man. I’ve had a lot on my mind the past few days.”

“Anything you want to talk about? Or you gonna stew in it and deal with it yourself, then tell me all about it?”

Ryan gets me. I’m not the sort to show my hand, especially when I’m dealing with shit. I tend to keep it all in, stuff it down until I resolve the issue. Then I share it with friends. Probably not the healthiest way to do it, but that’s the way I’ve always been.

“It’s—” I nearly say, It’s nothing , but I would never say that about what I did with Lance. Not when it was everything . “I’ll tell you about it at some point, I’m sure,” is the most I can give.

“Okay, man. You know I’m here if you need anything.

In the meantime, I’m gonna be an amazing friend and tell you that your pecs are looking hot as hell today.

Whatever girl you wind up with at Omega Psi’s party tomorrow night, tell them to thank me for how hard you got these.

” He grips my pec, and I’m impressed at how firm the muscle is.

He’s right to credit himself for how he’s pushed me.

“What muscles can I grab onto?” comes from nearby, and a smiling Dax rounds the corner of the row of lockers. Wet and with a towel around his waist, it’s clear he’s coming from the showers.

“Hey, man,” Ryan says, approaching Dax and hugging it out, not seeming to give any fucks about the way his dick’s waving around as he pulls back, something Dax clearly notices.

“You just get here?” I ask as we fist-bump.

“Nah, I’ve been here for a bit.”

Ryan and I glance at each other because it’s not so big a gym that we would’ve missed him.

“I got a good workout in,” he assures us, sporting a mischievous smirk. The guy fucking oozes charisma and charm. I thought I was good at getting laid until I saw Dax’s skills. Prolific is an understatement. He’s also just an all-around cool guy.

Two guys pass behind him, one in a tank, the other in a polo and holding a backpack. They head for the exit, and the one with the backpack says, “See you around, Dax.”

“Yeah, text us later,” the other follows, turning enough that I can see the glint in his eyes, which keeps me from having to speculate about what Dax was up to.

“What did you hit today?” Ryan asks Dax. “Arms? Shoulders?”

God, I love him, but he can definitely come across as the oblivious jock sometimes.

“I hit glutes,” Dax jokes. “Hard.”

“Yeah? Let’s see.” Ryan steps around to check out Dax’s ass, still not seeming to pick up on what Dax was insinuating.

“I was fucking those guys who just passed us,” Dax explains, putting our precious friend out of his misery.

“Oh…” Ryan says, his eyes widening. “That makes more sense.”

“But you guys clearly got in a good workout today,” Dax notes.

“Yeah, this isn’t like peak fitness. Planning to put on thirty, but look at these guns.” Ryan glances back at the mirror, flexing for himself.

“Damn,” Dax says, admiring his physique. “Looking thick as hell.”

“Come over and give it a little feel.”

Dax doesn’t pass up the opportunity to feel up a guy, so he takes Ryan’s bicep and gives it a squeeze. “Like a rock.”

Is it weird that even the word rock reminds me of Lance because of what he thought during that first…encounter?

Ryan grabs Dax’s hand and moves it to his abs. “You’d fuck this, right?”

“Oh my God, Ryan,” I say.

“I’d probably want you to fuck me,” Dax says, “but since that’s not happening, I suggest you take a pic of this and add it to your Insta stories.”

Wild to see Ryan joking about fucking around with a guy, having no idea what I was up to earlier this week.

What I can’t seem to get out of my head.

Ryan stands a little taller, clearly pleased with the compliment as he fetches his phone from his locker and snaps a few pics. “See, Dax appreciates that I just need my ego stroked every once in a while. My best friend could learn a thing or two.”

“It’s probably better coming from someone who would actually fuck you,” I say, “but I’ll take the best-friend note under consideration.

Maybe we can add it to the minutes at the next frat meeting.

Meanwhile, Dax, I noticed I haven’t gotten a compliment after this guy just put me through it in there. ”

“Okay, okay,” Dax says. “I’d let you both fuck me, but it’d have to be at the same time. That better?”

I’m tempted to say, No way I’m fucking anyone other than Lance . But of course, I can’t say that, and it’s a weird-ass thing to even think, especially when I don’t even know if he’d want me fucking him.

“I don’t need your pity fuck,” I insist.

“Why you turning down Dax’s pity fuck?” Ryan asks. “You accept them from girls. That seems homophobic.” He’s got that playful expression on his face. The guy loves giving me hell.

“Fuck off, you big frathole,” I tease, and Dax and Ryan are in stitches.

We chat a bit more, get dressed, and head out. When I get into my car, I check my phone to see if Lance has messaged.

We’ve exchanged a few DMs on Insta. Just checking in. Yesterday, apparently there was a big to-do when one of Ash’s gerbils escaped, and they thought Frat Cat might have been a killer.

But neither of us brought up what we did. I’m hoping I’ll get to see him at Omega Psi’s party tomorrow night.

Maybe we could even sneak into another room and mess around some more…

Of course, if he’s decided he doesn’t want to mess around, I’ll understand. But fuck, I hope he’ll want to.

When I don’t see a message from him, there’s a pinch in my gut. I tell myself it could just be the tension Ryan worked up with that planks finisher.

But there’s panic mixed in too—that maybe Lance brought up that part of his day and not the messing around because he doesn’t want to do anything again.

Wants to forget about it.

After all, after he got me off, he was quick to head for the door.

Maybe I should have let him leave instead of getting him off .

I consider DMing him, but I don’t want to hound the guy, and we messaged yesterday, so I should be able to manage twenty-four hours without texting him again.

I pull it together and head to work.

It’s a rather uneventful Thursday afternoon, and I’m only into my second hour when I discover Ash, Lance, Payton, and Marty being seated in my coworker Jerri’s section.

Lance knows this is where I work. Is it strange that I’m hoping he was the one who suggested they come here tonight?

Maybe because he wanted to see me again.

Why does that set off fireworks in my chest?

I could get Jerri to swap out with me so I can take their table, but…

why do I feel nervous about approaching?

The hell is that? I’m Ty Lancaster. I don’t get nervous about flirting.

Though flirting with a guy after hooking up with him…

I’ve never done either. Not that it matters. And I’m always cooler than this.

“Well, well, look who it is,” I say, approaching the Alpha Theta Mu crew.

“Oh no,” Payton says. “We about to get food poisoning for a week, bro? Maybe some cyanide on top?”

“Tell me, is that just for the pizzas?” Ash asks. “Or are we safe with calzones?”

“As an employee here, I would never tell you that. But since you asked, I’d also never tell you what I’m gonna do to the calzones.”

The guys share a laugh—well, all but Marty, who looks anxious.

“Mart, don’t worry. I’d never kill you. Someone needs to run back and let those pledges know who did it.”

Despite the banter, I notice that the guy who’s usually the first to give me hell has been quiet, and my gaze meets his for the first time.

I’ve had those brown eyes set on me plenty of times before, but it’s different now that we’ve messed around. It sends a pulsing sensation through me, like a message my nerves are carrying to tell everything in me that we’re close to that delicious experience again.

Still, I’m tense, since I can’t really read his expression. I thought we were fine, just taking some time to process everything, but with him sitting there silent, not being his usual playful self, I’m wondering if maybe I’m wrong.

“Sorry, Lance, we weren’t expecting a president, so we didn’t have the red carpet rolled out,” I tease, since I have to rag on him a bit or the guys are gonna be sus. I’m also hoping however he reacts gives me some insight into what he’s thinking.

Lance smirks. “We’ll start with some waters. We prefer to be hydrated if we’re gonna be writhing in agony from cyanide poisoning.”

His jokey retort sets me at ease. “Three waters coming right up,” I say before spinning around.

“There are four of us,” Marty calls out.

“I noticed.”

Of course I’m gonna get them all waters. Marty should know by now that my teasing is just that.

I let Jerri know I’ll be taking their table, then serve them for the night along with my other tables. Lance and I keep exchanging looks, and I see him keying into his phone at one point, so when I get a moment, I sneak a peek and find a DM on Insta:

LANCE: The cyanide was lovely…you could hardly taste it with the crushed pepper.

I chuckle. Fuck, this guy is fun.

ME: I know what you’re doing with all this talk about me poisoning you guys. Coming for my job.

LANCE: I’d prefer just to be coming.

ME: Mean it, Stud?

LANCE: Are you fucking kidding? It’s all I’ve been thinking about the past few days.

It’s like he knows just what I need to hear.

ME: Is that why you’re stalking me at my job?

LANCE: *laughing emoji* I tried to talk them into another place, but I can’t help that Junkie’s has the best calzones. Also didn’t know if you’d be working.

ME: So you were trying to avoid me?

I’m giving him hell. But also probing to see if there is any discomfort on his end. Because if there is, I’d never want to push.

LANCE: What? No. I didn’t want to bother you.

LANCE: I know how you are with girls.

ME: Well, neither of us knows how I am with boys.

ME: I just wanted to give you time to think about what we’ve done.

ME: Make sure you’re comfortable.

And now I’m texting too much.

Lance doesn’t reply right away, which makes me nervous. Like if he doesn’t want to get together again, some part of me will suffer.

As soon as the bubble pops up, adrenaline pulses through me.

LANCE: If we both keep waiting for the other to text, we’re gonna be waiting for a long-ass time.

I could start bouncing around the break room, I’m so excited.

ME: In that case, I guess we do need to meet up again.

LANCE: I agree.

I notice Cheryl coming from the kitchen, so I slide my phone into my pocket and get back to work.

When I take the check to the Alpha Theta Mu crew, I give them the appropriate amount of hell.

And while I chat with them, Lance and I keep glancing at one another, enjoying this little secret we share that none of his buddies know about—I doubt could even guess given the interactions they’ve seen between us.

As they’re heading out, the place is getting busy. It’s not even a few minutes since they left when I feel another vibration in my pocket, and I take a look.

LANCE: You want to meet up at the Omega Psi party tomorrow?

There it is!

ME: Do I ever…

*

I throw on a shirt, checking myself in the mirror in the en suite bathroom of my room. Most of the rooms in our house don’t have one, but being a senior and the president, I have priority for the perk.

I study my arms. I’m filling this polo out nicely.

I tell myself I’m being my usual vain self, but I know I secretly hope Lance will think I’m looking good. That this will make Lance eager to sneak off with me for more trouble.

I grab my phone off the counter and notice it’s pulled a Memory from photos, which immediately makes me tense up.

I’m tempted to leave it. No reason to dredge anything up tonight. But it’s been three years. I can handle whatever’s in here.

I click on it.

I’m used to seeing the old pics of Grant and me.

Going on fishing trips. To Six Flags. Universal Studios.

Go-carts. Sometimes it’s pleasant to reflect on the good times.

But this picture isn’t from those days. It’s Grant sitting on the couch, looking pale as hell, his gaze not meeting the camera as I hook my arm around him and smile.

My chest tightens, and I press my palm against it.

I quickly close out of the Memory, but the floodgates have opened and the memories are back, a montage of everything from the disorientation and confusion to the fall…

to steadily losing more and more of him each day.

I fight back the tears as I instinctively start to pull up Mom’s number, but I stop myself.

No. I can’t do this to her. I refuse to do this to her. I must deal with this shit on my own.

It’ll pass. It always passes.

I tuck my phone in my pocket, telling myself I just need to get out there and live my life. That’s what Grant would have wanted.

But fuck, it hurts like hell.